


Diving Deep

by aravenwood



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canonical Child Abuse, F/M, Gen, Hurt Isaac Lahey, Hurt/Comfort, Isaac Feels, Isaac-centric, Whump, divers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 12:14:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15048794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aravenwood/pseuds/aravenwood
Summary: AU in which diver!Isaac wants nothing more than to win the championships and then the Olympics. But with a coach like his father, that was never going to be easy. Or painless.





	Diving Deep

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So, this was written for a friend of mine, [Elin](http://justchillingtothetune.tumblr.com/), who's also an Isaac fan and who gave me the prompt for a diver AU in which Isaac's father pushes him too far. It took me a while to actually write this, so sorry for the delay, Elin! I hope it's something like what you were thinking!
> 
> Also, everything I know about diving - pretty much nothing - was from looking at clips online. So most of this is probably really inaccurate. 
> 
> Enjoy, everyone!

Taking a few deep breaths through his nose, Isaac stepped up to the edge of the diving platform and looked out at the crowd. The stands were full, occupied by an audience who watched him with excited eyes and loud cheers. He smiled at them, waved and ran a trembling hand through his hair. His teeth chewed on his bottom lip for a second as he played the entire dive in his head. It was nothing he hadn’t done before – most of it he could do with his eyes closed. But he’d never been in a final before, and he certainly hadn’t been watched by this many people. He knew for a fact that most people had come to see McCall, the diver who’d gone before him and whose cheeky smile and elfish features had charmed the thousands of people who’d seen him in other competitions. But Isaac could do charming too, if he tried hard enough.

The crowd fell silent as he straightened his back and took form. He turned his back to them and straightened up, arms raised above his head. Beyond the board he could see the next diver a few steps from the top, his eyes meeting Isaac’s. He nodded once, politely, and mouthed a good luck. Isaac nodded in thanks and smiled, then turned his attention to the back wall. Breathed deeply, focusing for a few moments on the steady rise and fall of his chest. His first dive of the day, the one that would make the crowd love or hate him, make the judges respect his ability or roll their eyes every time he climbed those stairs.

He could do this. He had to.

After one last deep breath, he jumped straight into the air. Then leapt backwards and began his dive.

He immediately lifted his knees close, arms holding them in place. He spun forwards once, then twice, the water getting closer. One more spin and he straightened his body only a split second before he hit. The water broke around his body as he landed, diving deeper for a second with the momentum before he was able to straighten up and swim to the surface.

The applause was almost deafening, the occasional cheers bringing a wide grin to his face. He swam quickly to the edge of the pool and dragged himself up, waving as soon as he was on his feet. Once more his eyes searched the crowd, not for anyone in particular but just to see if they’d really liked it or if the applause was just a formality. But no one could fake those smiles, no one could fake that level of excitement. He waved one more time, his cheeks aching from the grin, but he didn’t care because he’d pleased the crowd.

But what about the judges?

He had to beat 37 – McCall’s score – and his heart was racing as he stared at the five judges. Unlike the audience, their expressions were unreadable and they wouldn’t look at him, even for a moment. But he couldn’t look away, as if doing that would somehow ruin his chances of victory.

It couldn’t have been more than 30 seconds later that they raised their cards, but it felt like so much longer. To make it even worse, Isaac couldn’t make his brain work enough to add up the numbers; every time he tried to focus on the basic mathematics a voice at the back of his mind told him that he’d fucked up, that he was never going to make it to the Olympics if he didn’t improve. But he couldn’t think back to the dive to figure out what he’d done wrong.

“Thirty-nine points for Lahey!”

Isaac froze. “What?” he mumbled as the audience erupted into another round of applause. He frowned and looked up at them and their beaming faces, but he couldn’t bring himself to celebrate because he honestly didn’t think he’d heard right. He couldn’t have.

“…what?” he said again.

“Isaac Lahey is currently in the lead,” the commentator announced and finally Isaac was able to register his words. He broke into a grin and waved at the crowd as he headed away from the pool. He’d done it, he was in the lead! It wasn’t a good idea to get too excited yet, but this was the first round of his first final and he was in the lead!

There was a bounce in his step as he left the main area.

“Your arms were crooked.”

Isaac tensed and bowed his head. “Sorry, Dad. But…but I’m in the lead.”

His father and Coach, Mr Lahey, tutted. “Then the judges weren’t watching closely enough. It was a sloppy dive, Isaac. We both know you’ve done better in training.”

“I’m sorry,” Isaac whispered.

“You aren’t going to get to the Olympics with dives like that. They’ll laugh in your face. You’ll never get taken seriously.”

“I…”

“And I’ve told you to stop doing that stupid waving. You look like an idiot. Like a child.”

Isaac blushed deeply. “It gets the crowd going. They like it when divers are friendly like that.”

Coach Lahey shook his head. “They were laughing at you! For fuck sake, Isaac, would you just do as I say for once? I’m your coach, you listen to _me_ ,” he growled and dragged Isaac close by the shoulder, his fingernails digging into the soft flesh of Isaac’s collarbone.

“Dad, I…”

“Don’t you dare call me that. You can be my son when you aren’t a disappointment,” he sneered and further tightened his grip. Isaac flinched and tried to pull away, but the pain had him holding back a yelp and squeezing his eyes shut.

The grip on his shoulder disappeared abruptly, but it felt wet and as he lifted his hand to the area, his fingers came away wet. He opened his eyes to check. Yep, blood.

“I can’t go out there when I’m bleeding,” he whispered.

Coach Lahey nodded. “Then you’re clearly going to need to drop out, aren’t you? Didn’t you hit your leg on the bottom of the pool?”

Isaac glared at him, shaking with anger. “I’m in the lead!”

“Do you want them to see you bleed?”

“…I was in the lead.” His voice was lower now, more shaky. Any excitement he’d had was gone – his father had that effect on people.

“I’ll tell them you had to drop out. You can barely stand on that leg, after all.” Coach Lahey’s eyes took on a dangerous glint a split second before he swung at Isaac, fist slamming into his jaw. The hit was so sudden that he had no chance to steady himself so he fell hard against the cold, wet floor, landing hard on his left arm. He yelped but bit the inside of his cheek so that no one would hear him; screwing up a dive wasn’t the only thing that would ruin his career – no one would take a diver who’d been abused by his own coach seriously, after all.

He was so focused on staying quiet that he didn’t see the foot coming. It came down hard on his knee, pain blossoming like a torturous flower beneath his skin. He tasted blood in his mouth as his jaw tightened, felt tears on his cheeks. “Bastard,” he sobbed through the pain.

Coach Lahey dropped to one knee next to him and tightened a hand in his hair, dragging his head off the floor and tearing several chunks of hair from his scalp in the process. “What did you call me?” he growled, his expression a mix of anger and amusement. He shook Isaac’s head violently, drawing out a muffled cry which forced him to clasp his free hand over his son’s mouth. “Well?”

“So-sorry.” Isaac’s voice was so muffled that the word didn’t even sound like a word, but it was good enough for his father. The hand didn’t drop from his face, forcing him to breathe heavily through his nostrils between each violent sob.

Smirking, his father lowered his head so that his lips were millimetres from Isaac’s ear. “That’s more like it,” he whispered, then pushed Isaac away from him. “I’ll tell them you’re pulling out.”

Isaac didn’t move as Coach Lahey headed away from their private little corner. He couldn’t move, the pain in his knee too painful for even a twitch. A part of him was terrified that someone would find him here, even though he knew that no one ever came this way. An even smaller part of him actually hoped that it would happen, career be damned. No career was worth this, no medal. Nothing.

Once more Isaac stood on the edge of the diving platform. There was no crowd to impress this time, no judges to score him. Just him on his own up here, and his father down at the poolside, watching him with eyes narrowed in frustration. Ever since the championships, Isaac had been getting worse instead of better; he struggled to bring his legs close like he needed to, struggled to straighten them before entering the water. Struggled even to climb the stairs leading up to the platform. Sometimes he couldn’t do it and ended up collapsed halfway there, clutching at his leg and whimpering pathetically.

Coach Lahey had shown him exactly what he thought of that.

 Looking down at the water and adjusting his stance, the throbbing in Isaac’s knee grew suddenly worse as he shifted. He hissed, gritted his teeth and rubbed at the offending joint like that would take away the pain, all the while wishing that he’d been better prepared and stocked up on pain meds rather than letting them run out. They’d been gone for two days and he’d barely been able to eat or sleep with the pain so constant and unforgiving. He wished more than anything that he didn’t have to train. That he could just curl up in bed until the pain was nothing more than a distant memory, just another past injury to add to the list.

“Isaac!” his father snapped, and Isaac flinched, half-expecting to find him right there on the platform, ready to push him in. But Coach Lahey hadn’t moved; he was right where he had been, the frustration on his face now anger instead. The look was met with another flinch, which in turn aggravated a new wave of pain over his body. He was glad no one else could see him right now; he didn’t want to have to answer the inevitable questions about the bruises all over his body.

But as he lifted his gaze to look straight ahead, he realised that he’d been wrong – he and his father weren’t alone.

In the stands sat McCall and a few others; the dark haired girl he had his arm around, another girl with strawberry blonde hair and intelligent eyes, a guy with a thick stubble and dangerous eyes, and a boy with brown hair, a red hoodie and eyes with none of that danger. They were all watching him intently, and when they realised that he was looking back McCall clambered to his feet and waved an arm over his head. He mouthed something – good luck. His eyes were wide and excited, as if watching Isaac dive was the best part of his day. But there was something else there too, something offsetting the excitement just a little bit.

Concern. He was worried about Isaac.

But they didn’t even know each other. Not really. So why was McCall so concerned about a stranger? Concern was bad, it made people probe. Made them look more closely at how he held himself, and it wouldn’t be difficult for them to see the frightened child he’d been, the one he still was but tried to hide behind a shaky façade of confidence.

That couldn’t happen. So he closed his eyes, took a couple of deep breaths and twisted his face into the same smile he offered the crowd who’d cheered for him. His eyes met McCall’s and he winked, then turned his back as he prepared for his dive. He could feel his knee screaming, and it took all of his concentration to keep the smile from changing into a grimace. Not now. One more dive and he would get it right this time, and they could finally call it a day. Maybe he could even take tomorrow off.

Probably not.

He straightened his arms and his back, jumped once and then threw himself backwards. As he tried to curl his legs up, the pain grew to unbearable levels and he found that he couldn’t move. Diving became falling. There was no grace, no control. He was falling like he hadn’t trained for years to avoid doing exactly this.

He choked as he hit the water, and after that everything grew worse. It was as if every muscle in his body had seized in the air because now he couldn’t move. He was sinking when he needed to swim, and he’d used up all the air in his lungs and now he couldn’t breathe. Still sinking, he could only stare at the bottom of the pool as it got closer and closer. He was going to die down here, and wouldn’t that be just so ironic? So ironic that it might even make the news.

He huffed out a laugh and immediately regretted it as his vision blurred and darkened around the edges. Someone had told him once that drowning was a peaceful death but his heart was racing and his brain was screaming move, breathe, for god sake save yourself.

But he did none of that. He just let the water take him.

There were hands on his shoulders, dragging him onto his side as he choked up all of the water in his lungs. He shuddered and heaved, every cough sending fresh waves of agony all over his body. There were tears on his cheeks, or maybe there weren’t, he couldn’t really tell but crying felt like the thing to do right now.

“Isaac! It’s ok, you’re ok, just breathe,” said a voice close to his ear, and hands started rubbing circles on his back and squeezing his shoulder and pushing sodden hair away from his face.

He moaned as the coughs died down and relaxed into the touches, too exhausted and afraid and in too much pain to know that touching was supposed to be bad. Someone shushed him. Something warm was dropped over his body, so warm when he felt so cold that he dragged it close and buried his face in it. He wanted to go home now.

The hand on his shoulder jostled him and wouldn’t stop until he opened his eyes and squinted up to see who it was. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he found McCall kneeling next to him, fully clothed but soaked and shivering, but watching him anxiously. “McCall?” he whispered, voice cracked and hoarse.

“Scott,” the other corrected with a quick smile. “Are you ok?”

Before Isaac could answer, someone cleared their throat pointedly and this time he knew who it was before he looked. “Dad?”

Coach Lahey offered him a smile which didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re alright. You worried me, you know. I was going to jump in after you but Mr McCall beat me to it. You’re lucky you had a champion diver on hand,” he said, with emphasis on the word “champion” as if he was mocking Isaac.

“Sorry,” Isaac mumbled.

“Let’s go home.”

Isaac nodded and pushed himself upright, swaying dangerously as a wave of dizziness flooded through his head. He groaned and covered his eyes until the feeling was gone, then tried again. Scott wrapped hands around his upper arms and helped him to stand, not dropping his hold even when Isaac was sure he was steady on his feet. He didn’t argue.

But then the hands were gone, replaced by his father’s bruising grip. He winced without meaning to, then blushed. Fuck, had anyone seen that?

“Isaac, are you sure you’re ok? What happened?” Scott asked, gesturing to the bruising over Isaac’s chest.

Fuck.

Biting his lip, Isaac lowered his eyes to where Scott was looking. The bruises were older now, but they weren’t quite light enough to be ignored yet. He wracked his mind for an excuse, anything that the other might believe. There was nothing. His heart was racing, his breathing a little faster, and as a result he felt a cough rise in his throat. When one came, they all did, and he was actually grateful for Coach Lahey’s hold on him as he doubled over and tried to breathe.

He was breathless by the time the last of the coughs escaped, clutching his stomach and gasping for air.

“Isaac?” Scott asked again.

Isaac forced a smile, even though he wanted nothing more than to cry. Looking Scott dead in the eye, he nodded once. “Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

He hated that he had to lie to Scott, who seemed to genuinely care with his big, worried eyes. No one ever showed Isaac that kind of concern, not even when he was younger and the abuse was even worse than it was now. It made his chest ache that he had no choice but to push the other away. If things had been different, maybe they could have gotten closer. Maybe they could have been friends. But Isaac couldn’t have friends, because friends knew things and they grew closer and they found things out.

Things that Isaac could never share. Things he wished he could share. Things that would ruin his career.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
